Game Player

by B. J. Harvey

  “Your face . . . I’ve really run you through the wringer, haven’t I?” She leans forward and burrows her head into my chest, her hands going to my shoulders as she hangs off me, her body continuing to vibrate with now out-and-out laughter.

  My anger disappears as her warmth and continuing sniggers seep into me. My arms wrap around her waist, and I drop my face into the crook of her shoulder, resting my nose against the skin of her neck and breathing her in.

  I have her back. The woman I can’t live with and can’t live without. The one I want to come home to—in our home—and the only woman I wouldn’t freak out about having a baby with.

  “Legs,” I whisper when her laughter subsides and her grip tightens, as if she doesn’t want to let me go.

  “Yeah,” she replies, also on a whisper.

  “I want you right where you are, always.”

  “I want to be right where I am, always,” she repeats my words back to me.

  I take a deep breath, taking her in, letting the fact she came to fight for me—for us—seep in. I still want to know why she freaked out and pushed me away. “We need to talk.”

  “Yeah,” she says softly.

  “Want to tell me what happened?”

  She buries her face in my neck. I know she’s hiding but when it comes to Mia, I find myself having a lot of patience. She rests her cheek on my shoulder.

  “I was scared,” she says. “So fucking scared. I’d told you I was protected, and then whatever happened—I’m suddenly pregnant.” She takes a deep breath and her body shudders against mine. I try to move her back so I can look into her eyes, reassure her that everything is going to be okay, but she clings to me as her tears wet my tee.

  “Mia . . .” I say gently, tightening my arms around her, trying to use my touch to calm her down.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” she whispers. “You never did anything to make me think that you’d just be like him. You . . . you seem so good at the relationship stuff, when I knew you weren’t a relationship guy. It freaked me, so I pushed my worries on you and figured you’d bail anyway, so I’d push you away before it hurt even more.”

  “Beautiful . . .” I murmur against her cheek.

  “But it hurt like a bitch anyway. I want everything you said you want to give me.”

  I glide my hand reverently over her slightly rounded stomach that I can’t wait to see swollen and round—not that I’d tell Mia that—and run my knuckles up the center of her chest before lifting her chin up so her eyes meet mine.

  “I missed you, Legs.”

  “I missed you more.”

  “I bought us a house,” I blurt out, and watch Mia’s eyes well with tears and she snorts out a very unladylike but totally Mia burst of laughter.

  “Only you would buy a house for me after what I did.”

  “You can’t see it until I finish renovating it.”

  “Okay . . .” she says slowly, shaking her head but still smiling up at me.

  “And I will marry you . . .”

  “Maybe one day . . .” she replies coyly, her arms giving me a squeeze.

  My chest grows tight as her words sink in. “You’ll marry me? You were so against it.”

  “When in the middle of an epic freak-out I was against it. Now that you’re here, I’m here, I’m not having a meltdown, I’m carrying your baby and you’ve bought me a house—”

  “Us a house,” I say, correcting her.”

  She nods. “Us a house, I figure the least you could do would be to make an honest woman out of me.”

  We just stand there staring at each other for a while. I don’t want to break the moment or move out of each other’s arms. I never thought I’d meet a woman who would turn me into a sap like the rest of the guys, but funnily enough, I’m not the least bit disappointed in myself. It feels pretty fucking good, actually.

  “I told you I’d prove you wrong,” I say with a smirk, lifting my other hand to wipe away a stray tear that falls down her cheek.

  “And I look forward to a lifetime of you doing that.”

  A short while later, we’re lying on the couch, side by side, front to front, our legs entangled, with one of Mia’s arms draped around my waist and the other bent over her head, her fingers playing with my hair. I’d insisted on her lying down, warning her that I was going to treat her like glass until the doctor told me personally that both her and the baby were going to be okay.

  “So summing it all up, that’s a no to marriage—”

  “Right now . . .”

  “Okay, right now . . . but you know it’s going to happen.”

  Her eyes go glassy and she nods. “Yeah,” she replies softly.

  “And yes to the house . . .”

  She giggles. “You kind of forced my hand with that one, since you’ve already bought it.”

  “I couldn’t pass it up,” I lie.

  “Riiiight,” she replies, knowing I’m full of shit.

  “And you’re moving in with me until I finish the renovations on our house.”

  “You want that?” she asks quietly, snuggling in closer and resting her forehead on my jaw.

  “I want you close. I didn’t like not having you with me this past month.”

  “I like you saying it’s our house.”

  “Well, I bought it for us, therefore it’s our house.” A soft sigh escapes her mouth and I can’t help myself from teasing her. “You going to start crying again?”

  “No,” she says, sounding perturbed. “It’s the hormones. I blame you.”

  “We’ve got time for the blame game later. Don’t interrupt me while I’m breaking down the big decisions we’ve just made.” She tilts her head back and tries to keep a straight face but her twitching lips give her away. “You mean the ones you made.”

  “Yes, that’s what I said, we . . .” I reply with a grin. “Lastly—and most importantly—it’s a big yes to you having my baby.”

  Her breath hitches and she wraps her arms tighter around me. “Fuck yes,” she whispers hoarsely.

  Thank fucking God! She burrows her face back into my chest again but I’m not quite finished. “Legs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to forgo the wedding and just get hitched in Vegas?”

  Her head snaps up, whacking my jaw and making me literally bite my tongue. “Jesus Christ,” I spit out, my hand reaching up to rub my jaw as Mia’s head shoots back and she stares wide-eyed at me, snagging her lip between her teeth and grinning.

  “I really should just kidnap you and get it over and done with. Anytime I mention marriage you freak out,” I muse.

  “That wasn’t a freak-out. That was a knee-jerk reaction,” she explains.

  “More like a head-jerk.”

  “Keep it up and there won’t be any type of jerking in the near future.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Legs,” I reply with a smirk.

  “I guess I could kiss it better . . .” she offers.

  “I know another head you could kiss that I’d enjoy a fuck of a lot more.”

  “I could do that I suppose . . . or you could jump on my laptop, book flights to Vegas, and I’ll kiss anything you’d like when we get there,” she says coyly, her eyes locked with mine.

  My entire body goes rock solid, my heart jackhammering in my chest.

  “Are you fucking with me?” I say gruffly, my throat clogged with emotion. A lone tear falls down her cheek. Cupping her jaw with my hand, I sweep the tear away with my thumb.

  “Not yet, but hopefully later,” she murmurs, her eyes dropping to my mouth. Unable to resist, I lean in and steal a slow, sweeping kiss before pulling back.

  “Unfortunately, there won’t be any fucking to be done because you, little mama, are on bed rest for the weekend, doctor and big brother’s orders. Your baby-daddy’s orders, too, which are of course the most important of them all.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Of course I fucking am,” I say, serious as shit, and
her lips turn up into a huge, blinding smile.

  “I think I might kinda sorta love you, Matthew Taylor.”

  “That’s good, Legs, because there’s nothing kinda or sorta about how I feel. But I’m thinking I need to fuck that ‘kinda sorta’ shit out of you . . . next week . . . maybe . . .”

  “Is that a threat or a promise?” she asks with a grin, hooking her thigh over my hip.

  “Oh, don’t you worry, Legs. That’s a dare, promise, and a vow, all rolled into one.”

  Two months later.

  The Vegas wedding didn’t happen that day, or even that month, in fact. It wasn’t until two months later that I came home early from work to our rose petal–covered living room, sparkling grape juice poured into two champagne flutes and Matt on bended knee in the middle of the room, holding open a black velvet box with the most gorgeous diamond engagement ring in it that I’d ever seen.

  After consummating our engagement—as you do—he informed me that we had a flight two hours later headed for Vegas with Nat and Jase joining us. I didn’t argue. I was too caught up in the spontaneity and headiness that Matt was actually going to be my husband. It didn’t hit me until we landed that I’d be getting married without my family—without Mom.

  “Oh god, pregnant woman down!” Nat announces from the seat opposite me in the limo.

  “What?” Matt asks, his voice panicked.

  “I’m . . . I’m o . . . kay . . . I’m happy . . . it’s just . . .” I sniff loudly and a sob escapes from my throat.

  Matt’s arms suddenly wrap around me and I’m hauled into his lap. “Legs, beautiful, we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. I just—”

  “No, it’s . . . it’s not that. It’s just that . . . my . . . mom . . .” I whisper hoarsely. Suddenly, Nat and Jase start chuckling, and Matt’s chest shakes. The hormonal pregnant crazy woman inside of me—the one which I’d learned to embrace during the past five months—comes roaring to the surface. “It’s not fucking funny,” I snap.

  “You’re cute when you’re hormonal.”

  “Said no sane man ever,” I snark, still wanting to know why the fuck everyone is laughing.

  “Legs, can you wait until we get to the hotel before you castrate me?” Matt asks, still sounding way too amused.

  I sit up straight in his lap and put my arms across my chest, lifting my chin in the air and ignoring all of them.

  “Still cute.”

  “Shut up if you’re not going to tell me. And give me my phone; I need to book a flight back home. We can’t get married today. My baby-daddy is an ass who laughs at pregnant women, and my mom will disown me if she doesn’t give me away at my first wedding.” My voice is high-pitched and desperate now.

  “What do you mean first?” Matt growls, cutting through my freak-out. Before I can react, I find myself swung sideways and gently put down on the leather seat, a now angry Matt hovering over me, one hand beside my head, the other resting gently on my rounded belly—a now common occurrence. I bite my bottom lip and look up at him, shrugging nonchalantly, and his gaze darkens. “Legs, there’s only going to be one marriage, and that’s to me.”

  “You’re sexy when you’re all growly.”

  “You’re lucky we’ve got company, otherwise I’d be fucking you breathless so you couldn’t rile me up.”

  “I like you riled up.”

  He drops his forehead to my head, his lips resting against mine. “You going to marry me, Legs?”

  I can’t resist him when he’s whispering like this, his warm breath fanning over my skin, his hand reverently cradling our baby growing inside of me.

  Fuck, I’m turning into a sap. I cry at the drop of a hat, I’m swollen in parts of my body that shouldn’t get swollen—but they do—and all Matt has to do is look at me and I’m ready to go.

  “You guys are cute and all but if I wanted porn, I’d rent it,” Nat says loudly, killing the moment. Matt’s lips curve up into a smile before he gives me a gentle kiss—with a touch of tongue for good measure—then sits and pulls me up and into his side.

  “At least give a man some warning next time. I’ll bring some moisturizer and tissues,” Jase adds.

  Fifteen minutes later, we pull up outside the Sovereign Hotel, and waiting at the curb is my favorite person in the whole world—other than Matt—my mom.

  I gasp and quickly look up at Matt. “You brought my mom?” My voice is tight, my throat clogged with overwhelming emotion—and not just the pregnant kind.

  “Your mom would never forgive me if she missed out on your big day.”

  With tears streaming down my cheeks, I lift my hands and cup his jaw. “I love you, Matthew Taylor.”

  He nips my lip, then runs his tongue along it to soothe the sting, his hands snaking around my shoulders before his lips touch my own, leaning me back and proceeding to kiss the life out of me.

  When I was a little girl, I never dreamed of getting married. I was a “live in the now” kind of kid. But standing next to my own version of Prince Charming—albeit a rugged, cocky-as-hell, sex-on-legs one—in a twenty-four hour wedding chapel in Las Vegas, I know that the where and how don’t matter, because I’m marrying the man of my dreams.

  My crying mom gives me away, handing me over to a dewy-eyed Matt. An Elvis impersonator pronounces us man and wife while Nat and Jase hoot and holler as Matt dips me back and kisses the life out of me—again.

  Sunday morning, we leave our hotel room haven having fully utilized room service to satisfy my outrageous cravings at three a.m. together with Mom, Nat, and Jase—the latter now with matching tattoos on their asses—we fly back home to Chicago to see what Matt has promised me is my wedding present.

  Nat, Jase and Mom disappear once we get to O’Hare. Matt takes me to where he’d parked, stows our luggage into the back of his truck, and slides into the driver’s seat, but doesn’t turn the engine on. Pulling out his cell from his pocket, he swipes the screen and seems to send a rapid-fire text message before locking the screen and throwing it on the dash.

  When he turns to face me, his eyes dance with something I can’t quite read. It’s a similar look to the one he uses when he surprises me—something that happens quite a lot.

  “What are you up to, Baby-Daddy?”

  “You’re going to see your wedding present in about twenty minutes and while we’re driving there, I want you to wear this,” he says, pulling out a black satin blindfold from his pocket. Where the hell did he get that from?

  “Matt, I’m all for experimentation, but not while driving,” I tease.

  He chuckles and lifts his hands up to my face, easing the blindfold over my eyes. “Can you see anything?” he asks.

  “Nope,” I say with a smile.

  “Good, now buckle up, Legs. ’Cause in twenty minutes, I’m going to rock your world so hard, I’ll earn blow jobs for a lifetime.”

  “You’re sounding mighty confident there, Husband.”

  “Fuck I love the sound of that,” he says, placing a hard and fast kiss on my lips before I hear him shift in his seat and the engine roar to life.

  The whole way there, Matt has his hand on my leg. He’s always been a touchy-feely, full-contact-at-all-opportunities kind of guy, and I secretly adore it—but I’d never tell him that because he’d get an even bigger head.

  What seems like forever later, we turn right and then stop. The cab of the truck is quiet, the windows shut to keep out the winter chill, and without knowing where I am and what is going on around me, I still feel at peace, because I know that Matt would never do anything to hurt me. He’ll put down his life, give up everything, and work his ass off till the day he dies—for me. Every day I’m with him, he proves to me that he is nothing like my father and in turn, I show him that I will put down my life, give up everything, and work my ass off till the day I die—for him.

  “You ready, Legs?” he asks, snapping me out of my contemplations.

  “You better deliver on this present, Baby-Daddy. I want to be
able to tell our son—”

  “Or daughter . . .” he interjects, as he always does when it comes to the sex of the baby.

  I snigger, “Yes, or daughter, that his or her father blew all wedding presents out the window with his surprise.”

  “Challenge accepted,” he whispers gruffly in my ear as the blindfold slowly slips from my eyes. In front of me is the most perfect brownstone I’ve ever seen and without asking, I know in my bones that Matt is giving me our home.

  I bounce in my seat before jumping him.

  “I take it you like it?” he asks.

  “Are you kidding me?” I shriek. “Take me inside, Husband. I want to see our house.”

  And that is what he does. He gets out of the truck, rounds the hood, and opens my door before helping me down and lacing his fingers with mine, and leading me along the flower-lined path to the front steps of our home.

  “You’ve got good game, Husband.”

  He turns us around so that we’re chest to chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders and his resting on my hip and—of course—on my little Buddha belly.

  “No game is worth playing unless you’re playing to win, and with you as the prize, there was no way I was ever going to lose.”

  Matt and Mia will be back in Game Maker (Game #2)—Danika and Zach’s story

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  Game Maker (Game #2)—Coming Soon

  I’m a gamer by nature and by profession. I’m all about strategy, performance, and coming out on top.

  Five months ago I threw caution to the wind, and in the first uncalculated step of my twenty-one-year life, I made a move on my brother’s best friend.

  The first mistake we made was keeping our relationship secret. The next was going off half-cocked when a train wreck of epic proportions hit us.

  Now our secret is secret no more. As I struggle to deal with all of the swirling emotions, conflicted feelings, and the multitude of burned bridges that I need to mend, the one person who can help me through it all is the same man I need space from.